


Buttons Aren't Even Cute

by mrandmrhale2



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, But it turned out okay, Canonical Character Death, Erica Reyes & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Fluff, I guess this is crack, M/M, Oblivious Stiles, Oral Sex, Protective Derek, Stilinski Family Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-24
Updated: 2014-02-24
Packaged: 2018-01-13 14:56:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1230658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrandmrhale2/pseuds/mrandmrhale2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buttons Aren’t Even Cute</p><p>OR</p><p>The five times Stiles was called adorable and the one time he wasn’t</p><p>_____</p><p>This was supposed to be only fluff and then porn happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Buttons Aren't Even Cute

**Author's Note:**

> see end for more notes

Stiles was six the first time someone called him adorable.

He walked into his first day of kindergarten with one hand clutching the strap of his Spiderman backpack and the other wrapped firmly around his mother’s.

“You’ll be just fine, sweetheart. You met Ms. Blake last week, you said you liked her, yeah?”

Stiles nodded, but his eyes were wide and terrified as they darted around the hallway. The walls were littered with finger paintings and macaroni art. It was bright and cheerful and it hurt his eyes a bit.

“And your friend from down the street, Scott, he’s going to be in your class, too.”

He perked up a little at that, and thought about the mop-haired boy that would play Pokémon with him after T-ball practice. Stiles had tried to teach his friend how to play baseball once, but Ms. McCall had ended up rushing outside with special medicine because Scott’s lungs were sick or something.

His mom pulled them to a stop in front of a door with big, bright letters that read ‘MISS BLAKE’S CLASS’.

“Here we are, honey,” when all Stiles did was bite his lip and grip her hand tighter, his mom sighed and knelt down, “I’ll be back before you know it. And by then, you won’t ever want to leave, okay? Trust me.”

His mom led him inside and handed him over to Ms. Blake with a tight smile.

“Stiles will be just fine, Mrs. Stilinski. He’s in good hands,” she grinned and helped Stiles slip off his backpack and jacket.

She hugged Stiles too tight before walking out of the classroom. Ms. Blake ushered him over to the coloring tables where Scott sat, furiously scribbling over a tracing of a rainbow.

“Hi, Scott,” Stiles said as he slid next to his friend, the legs of the little orange chair squelching against the linoleum.

“Hi,” he huffs, his bottom lip jutting out in a pout.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, and reached for his own paper and crayons.

“She wouldn’t share her blocks.”

Stiles followed his friend’s brooding stare until he was looking at a girl with curly brown hair.

“Who’s she?”

Scott shrugged and returned his attention to his rainbow.

They colored in silence for a few minutes, before Ms. Blake wandered by.

“Oh, that’s beautiful, Stiles! What have you drawn there?”

“S’wolf,” he mumbled, furiously scribbling in the tail, “All done!” he held up his drawing for her to see, and wouldn’t put it down until she responded with the appropriate amount of awe.

“You like wolves?” she asked, after giving Scott’s picture equal admiration.

“I dream about them, sometimes.”

“Scary dreams?”

He shook his head, “No, good dreams.”

She smiled at him, “Well, what _do_ you like, Stiles?”

“I like baseball!” he exclaimed, dropping his crayon in excitement.

She laughed, “Yeah?”

“Uh-huh! I like the Mets, just like my Daddy. I’m gonna be the catcher for them when I’m all grown up?”

“Well, aren’t you adorable,” she cooed, and ruffled his spikey hair.

And Stiles figured that, yeah, he was.

 

 

 

 

The second time was about a year and a half later, on his parent’s date night.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” he grumbled, sinking deeper into the bench in front of his mother’s vanity. He watched her in the mirror as she flitted from the bathroom to her closet and back.

“Heather is nice, Stiles. You’ll love her,” his mom said as she tied a silk scarf around her bald head.

His mom had shaved her head a few months back. They wouldn’t tell Stiles why. All he knew was that she was sick, and she was trying really hard to get better.

His dad was probably downstairs in the kitchen, pacing back and forth nervously and muttering to himself.

Date nights had been making him sad recently.

“I’m almost eight; I don’t need a babysitter,” he huffed, running a finger along the curve of the mirror, “I’m not a baby.”

“You’re my baby,” she said, and kissed the top of his head.

He rolled his eyes, but heat rose in his cheeks as he bit back a smile.

The doorbell rang, causing Stiles to jump, and his mom to move a little faster.

“Heather’s here, Claudia! You ready?” his dad shouted from the base of the stairs.

“Honey, go tell your father not to shout in the house, and that I’ll be ready in five minutes,” she said as she tried to put an earring in.

He slid off of the bench to do as she asked.

“Daddy!” he called as he hopped down the stairs, rounded the corner, and froze at the sight in front of him.

There was an angel in his kitchen.

“Stiles, this is Heather. She’s going to stay with you while Mom and I are at dinner.”

All he could do was nod. Heather was beautiful, with curly blonde hair and a smile that rivaled even Allison Argent’s, the girl Scott had been following around for a year.

“Hey there, Stiles, it’s nice to meet you,” she said, smiling at him like she hadn’t just melted Stiles’ heart in two seconds flat.

“Hi,” he muttered, shifting further behind his father.

He chuckled, “Don’t be shy, buddy, Heather says she has a surprise for you.”

Stiles looked at her with wide eyes, too star struck to fully form sentences.

“Yeah, I hear you like Pokémon?”

He nodded.

“Well, my little brother had _all_ of the Pokémon movies, so I grabbed them so we could watch them tonight. Sound like fun?”

Stiles was in love.

 

His parents left with the promise to be home by ten, which sounded way too early for Stiles, but whatever, and he and Heather ended up sitting on the couch watching the movies.

“W-Who’s your favorite Pokémon?” he asked tentatively.

“Hmmm,” she hummed, as she filed her nails, “I’d have to say Pikachu.”

“Mine too!” he lied- because, seriously, had Heather even _seen_ Articuno- and jumped up and down excitedly, “We have so much in common.”

She laughed, “Oh, yeah? Like what?”

“We, uh, we both like Pikachu and, uh… um,” she laughed again, and reached over to pat him on the cheek.

“Oh, Stiles, you sure are adorable. Cute as a button.”

And he grinned because, oh yeah, he _totally_ was.

 

 

 

 

The third time was when Stiles realized that, maybe, being adorable wasn’t such a good thing.

It was in eighth grade. Six years after his mom had died. Four years since his dad had been promoted to Sheriff.  And a whopping seven years since he had declared his love for Lydia Martin on the playground.

The very same Lydia who had just been assigned as his lab partner.

He sat on the stool next to her, his palms sweaty as he passed her a test tube.

“I need the sodium nitrate,” she said, not bothering him a second glance as she put a pinch of some powder into the glass.

“Oh, yeah. Um, here,” he may have underestimated the enthusiasm with which he reached for the bottle, because a second later, chemicals spilled across the floor.

Some splashed on Lydia, and she jumped off her chair with a yelp.

“Stilinski!” the teacher shouted, “Take Ms. Martin to the chemical wash.”

Stiles nodded furiously, and led a cursing Lydia to the back of the room, where there was a bright yellow sink.

“This is an eyewash station,” she said with a sneer, holding her injured hand with the other arm.

“It helps with chemical burns, too.”

“Have a lot of experience with this, do you?”

He shrugged, “A fair bit.”

He might have preened when she gave him a half smile.

He turned on the sink for her, and she stuck it under the stream, hissing as the icy water hit her skin.

They stood there in awkward silence as the water flowed, until Stiles couldn’t take it anymore.

“So,” he began, “You must be a compound of beryllium and barium...because you’re a total BaBe.”

She stared at him with a furrowed brow before a laugh escaped her full lips. He grinned like a maniac at the sound of her laugh- a laugh _he_ made happen thank you very much- and couldn’t help but give it another go.

“I wish I was an ion so I could form an exothermic bond with you.”

“Does your body consist of Oxygen and Neon? Because you are the ONe.”

"Are you a carbon sample? Because I want to date you."

By this point she was nearly doubled over with laughter, drawing some strange looks from the front of the room.

Stiles couldn’t keep the smile off of his face. He’d made Lydia Martin laugh. THE Lydia Martin. This was the greatest day of his life.

Once she’d calmed down and they were both just sort of smiling and giggling, Stiles decided that if he were ever going to make a move, the time would be now.

“So, Lydia… I was wondering if, maybe, you’d want to go to the movies with me some time?”

She gave him a close lipped smile, and put her free hand on his shoulder, “Ah, Stiles. You’re adorable, you know that?” and that was the only answer she gave, before turning off the sink, and heading back to the table with a flip of her hair.

He didn’t know why that burned like it never had before. Why the place on his shoulder where her hand had been suddenly felt ice cold.

Stiles decided that he didn’t want to be adorable anymore.

 

 

Stiles’ life changed sophomore year. Because Scott was bitten by- get this- a fucking _werewolf_. Which apparently made him a werewolf now because, yeah, they fucking _existed._

Which was why he suddenly had a _pack_ of friends instead of just a sensitive asthmatic. Well, a pack of friends and a creepy wolf-man who liked to shove Stiles up against walls and lurk in his bedroom. Which was totally not hot, no matter how hard Edward Cullen tried to make it that way.

But this is also when Stiles was called adorable for the fourth time.

Out of everyone in the pack, other than Scott, of course, Erica was hands down his favorite. She was completely badass, and plus Boyd and Isaac didn’t seem to like him all that much, anyway. Their loss.

Erica laid on Stiles bed, throwing a rubber band ball up in the air as Stiles researched something called a ‘chimera’ for Derek.

“Hey, Stiles?”

“Yeah?” he grunted, not taking his eyes off of the screen.

“Why are you single?”

He jerked in surprise, before spinning to stare at her incredulously.

She scoffed at him, “Don’t look like I’m about to claw you. It’s a valid question.”

“Why do you think?” he asked, and tried really hard not to pout. He didn’t need a reminder about how pale and weak he was. How completely unmanly and… _adorable_.

“Erica… do you think I’m, um, adorable?” he cringed as the word came out, and she raised an eyebrow, “Oh hey, did Derek teach you how to do that?”

She rolled her eyes, “Why do you want to know if I think you’re adorable?”

“I dunno. Research?”

“Don’t be annoying, Stilinski, and answer the question.”

“You first!” he whined.

She sighed, “Yes, I think you’re adorable. Your moles are cute, and your little upturned nose is just _precious_. Now, why the fuck does it matter what I think?”

“Because I think that’s why I’m single.”

Her nose scrunched, “Wait, you’re single because you’re adorable?”

“Yeeees,” he moaned, scrubbing his eyes with his fists.

“You’re fuckin’ nuts.”

“No, no, listen,” he climbed onto his bed next to her and flopped down, elbowing her in the gut. She hit him in retaliation, but he just continued, “No one wants to date an ‘adorable’ guy. They want a manly man, not someone who is-”

“As cute as a button?”

“Oh my God, they are not even cute.”

She laughed, and snuggled into his side, “I think you’re manly, Stiles. And totally dateable.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled, and he was totally not blushing even a little bit.

“But don’t tell Boyd.”

“Of fucking course I won’t; I value my life.”

“I’m sure other people find you dateable, too.”

“Yeah, right, like who?”

She shrugged and bit her lip, “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the guy who sneaks into your room all the time and never stops texting y-”

“Oh, hold up, I got a text from Derek,” Erica groaned in frustration and shoved her face into the pillow, “Seriously? Oh my God, this dude has me working double overtime. I got to get up, Erica, he wants a full report by tonight.”

“There’s no pack meeting tonight,” she said as Stiles climbed off of the bed.

“No, he was going to stop by later.”

“Stiles?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re an idiot.”

 

 

The first time Stiles went to The Jungle was to catch a lizard man that ended up being Jackson and Stiles still couldn’t believe that this was his life now. The second time was after he’d scored a fake ID from the creepy guy that worked in the photo lab at school and snuck out.

He hadn’t told Scott the thrill he’d gotten from being there the first time, how it had felt right when the random guy at the bar had flirted with him. It’s not like Scott didn’t already know that Stiles was bisexual, but he’d never experienced Stiles dating a guy before. All of his previous interests had been girls. So, in an attempt to keep him from a culture shock, Stiles had dragged Danny along with him.

“Alright, so don’t accept any drinks you didn’t specifically see the bartender make, and don’t agree to go upstairs with _anybody_ because that’s where all the drugs are, so- Stiles are you even listening?”

Danny waved a hand in front of his face, and he tore his eyes away from the guy he’d been staring at for the past five minutes.

“Wha- oh yeah. Totally, dude,” he mumbled, gnawing on the straw of the drink that was way too potent for him, but whatever if Stiles was going to get laid he might as well be drunk.

“Oh God, you’re not going to last ten minutes,” Danny moaned.

“What are you even talking about? I’ll be fine. I totally have this flirting thing down, man.”

He just rolled his eyes, but let it go.

They weren’t at the bar five minutes before Danny had been pulled to the dance floor by some guy with spikey blonde hair and too-white teeth.

Stiles sighed into his drink, and searched the room again. No one was even looking at him. It’s like he was fucking invisi-

“Hey there, baby.”

Stiles spun- probably too fast and jerky to be smooth in the slightest- to see some drop dead _gorgeous_ guy leaning against the bar next to him.

“Oh, uh, hey… babe?”

The guy chuckled and raked his eyes over Stiles’ chest.

He was fleetingly grateful that Danny had forced him into a way too tight shirt and thrown black skinny jeans at him before letting him leave the house.

“You here with anybody?” he drawled, running a lazy finger up Stiles’ arm.

He gaped at the guys strong forearms, before finally stuttering out, “Uh, yeah, my friend Danny. I don’t usually come to places like this but he does, like, _all the time_ , so I thought, who better to show me the ropes, right? But then he went to dance with his ex-boyfriend or something and left me here all alone, but then you showed up, so that’s nice and I really need to shut up feel free to stop me any time,” he gasped, and the guy just stared at him with wide eyes.

“Right. Can I buy you another drink?”

He nodded with vigor- probably too much- and then there was another drink in front of him.

“Drink up, baby,” the Handsome Stranger drawled, and leaned in towards Stiles with a predatory gleam in his eyes.

Stiles grinned and did as he was told.

 

Stiles swore that he’d only had two or three drinks, but there were _at least_ seven glasses in front of him. He couldn’t stop laughing, and he probably looked like an idiot, but Handsome Stranger didn’t seem to care as he led Stiles out of the club by his elbow.

“I should,” he hiccupped, “prolly tell, tell, um, Danny that I’m leavin’.”

“He’ll figure it out,” he tugged his arm a little too hard, but before Stiles could complain, he was being shoved up against an alley wall.

“Ever sucked cock, kid?” he asked, boxing Stiles in and rubbing his lower body up against him

Stiles’ mind unclouded a little, but not enough for him to shove the guy off when he started sucking on his neck. It was slobbery and a little gross to be honest, but all Stiles could do was lean his head back and giggle.

“I mean, I can tell you’re young. And trust me,” he laughed, still grinding against him, “it was just _adorable_ how hard you were trying to sound mature in there. But I think it’s time you put your mouth to a better use.”

The word ‘adorable’ sent a shot of clarity through his fuzzy brain, and he was finally able to muster a half-hearted shove to Handsome Stranger’s shoulder.

But the man just pushed against him harder, causing Stiles’ back to dig painfully into the brick wall.

“Stop,” he managed, but the guy laughed again.

“What? Isn’t this what you wanted, kid? Some experience?”

Stiles struggled against him for a few moments longer, before the weight was gone completely. Handsome Stranger was thrown against the opposite side of the wall. He landed with a thud. Stiles’ rescuer stood with his back to him, but he was dizzy and everything had moved really fast and he was breathless, and all he could really see was that the guy was built like a tank.

“Beat it, before I rip out your throat.”

Now _that_ threat sounded familiar. Stiles reached out, and when he felt leather under his fingers, he knew that his rescuer was none other than Derek Hale.

He watched Handsome Stranger run away before he was suddenly being manhandled out of the alley.

“Jeeze, dude, werewolf strength!” he whined as Derek gripped his arm to hard.

He let go of him with a huff, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing here, Stiles?”

“Don’t growl at me,” he moaned as his head started to spin. He wavered a bit, but Derek was there again in an instant, steadying him.

“What were you doing in a club?” he asked, gentler this time, but still with a bite of anger.

“Danny was go-gonna help me.”

His brow furrowed, and that reminded Stiles of how Derek’s eyebrows disappeared in his beta form, which sent him into a hysterical laughing fit.

Derek just sighed, and then Stiles was staring at his back as he was thrown over the werewolf’s shoulder.

He was still giggling when Derek dumped him in the passenger seat of the Camaro.

“Where we goin’?” he asked when Derek had finished buckling him in.

“My place. Unless you want me to take you home like this?”

“No, no, oh my God, Dad would kill me.”

“Not if I don’t get to it first,” Derek muttered under his breath, but Stiles heard, and he started laughing again.

“You sure are a happy drunk,” he grumbled, but one side of his mouth quirked up so Stiles knew he wasn’t mad.

“Yeah, I bet it’s just fucking _adorable_ , right? Fucking damn it.”

Derek gave him an odd look but didn’t comment as he pulled the car out into the street and headed for the loft.

The ride was mostly silent except for an occasional giggle from Stiles and a weary sigh from Derek.

They walked to the elevator- well, Derek technically _carried_ him to the elevator, but whatever- and Stiles leaned against the wall and closed his eyes shut tight.

There was a beat of silence.

“First time getting drunk?”

He shook his head and immediately regretted it. He had to grip the handle bar to keep from falling over when the dizziness hit him.

Derek took a few steps closer, just in case, but didn’t move to hold him up this time.

“No, but probably the first time getting _this_ drunk.”

Derek helped him into the bedroom when they finally arrived on his floor, where Stiles immediately collapsed with a please groan.

A few seconds later- or it may have been hours, he was pretty out of it- a glass of water was placed on the bedside table.

“Drink that. All of it.”

“Bossy,” he mumbled against the pillow, and reveled in Derek’s chuckle.

“Goodnight, Stiles,” he whispered, and ran a hand over the back of his neck before he left.

 

 

Stiles woke up with a mouth full of pillow. He blinked sleepily a few times until his vision cleared. It was still dark. He glanced at the clock and the half empty glass of water he managed to drink before passing out.

It was only about three a.m. and Stiles was surprised to find that he had no hangover.

He threw his legs off the bed, hissing when his feet came in contact with the cold floor.

He heard rustling from the other room, before Derek burst in, his eyes tired but anxious.

“Stiles?” he sounded so confused it was almost too cute, “What happened?”

He raised an eyebrow, “Nothing? I literally barely made any sound at all.”

Derek still looked hopelessly lost.

He sighed, “Your floor is cold. I wasn’t expecting it.”

“Oh,” he mumbled, and pressed the heel of his hand into his eye and rubbed. Sleepy Derek was officially Stiles’ favorite Derek, he decided.

“Nice reaction time, though. I feel very protected.”

He just furrowed his brow and frowned.

“Uh,” the quiet felt awkward and wrong, and Stiles had to say _something_ even if it was obvious that all Derek wanted to do was go back to sleep, “Why don’t I have a hangover?”

“Tonic,” he gestured to the water, “Mom’s recipe.”

Stiles laughed, “Why would a werewolf who couldn’t get drunk need a hangover tonic?”

Derek shrugged and shuffled his feet, “Dad was human.”

“Oh,” was all he could say. Since when did Derek mention personal things? In the year or so that Stiles had known him, the guy had been nothing but a stoic martyr.

“You should go back to bed,” he said, and turned to go back to the living room.

“Um, dude? You can still sleep in your bed, if you want. I don’t take up that much space.”

Derek looked at him for a long moment, his eyes hazy but calculating.

 “Okay,” he whispered finally, and climbed into bed next to him.

They laid there, not touching, and Stiles’ body was nearly buzzing just _knowing_ that someone as attractive as Derek was in bed with him. Even if it meant nothing, even if-

Derek rolled over, and flung an arm around Stiles’ waist, “You even _think_ loudly,” he muttered against his shoulder, “Go to bed, Stiles.”

He relaxed into the werewolf’s touch, “Yeah, okay. Night, Derek.”

 

This time, when Stiles woke up, it was with a mouthful of hair.

He was currently the big spoon to Derek’s little spoon, and for some reason he found that absolutely _hilarious_.

His body shook with laughter, and even though he made no sound, it was enough to wake Derek up.

“What are you _doing_?” he moaned into the blankets.

“I’m a big spoon,” he said stupidly, still laughing.

“You’re an idiot.”

“And _you’re_ a _little spoon_ ,” he choked out, and Derek craned his neck to shoot him an exasperated look.

By the time Stiles had gotten his amusement under control, he noticed that he had a very awkward morning situation going on all over Derek’s backside.

“Ah, shit, I’m sorry about-”

“I don’t mind,” he said simply.

“Wha- really?”

He just shrugged.

“Well, that’s very, uh, understanding of you.”

Derek scoffed, “You really are an idiot.”

“Why would you-”

Derek flipped over so suddenly, he didn’t have time to react as the werewolf pressed his lips against Stiles’. It was brief, and chaste, and when they parted, Stiles blurted, “You don’t want me.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“I-I mean, I’m not at all, you know, appealing. And you’re you- and you are like, Greek God status, ya know?”

“Stiles-”

“I’m just so _awkward_ and I don’t even know how to kiss right, let alone any of the other stuff.”

“Stiles,”

“ _Plus_ I talk too much, ya know?”

“Yeah, I know. Stiles, you’re-”

“You deserve someone so much better, someone who can handle all your sexiness and stuff, and I’m just adorable, not hot or sexy or-”

“Who ever told you that you were adorable?”

“Lots of people.”

“They must not have known you,” Derek moved so his body covered Stiles’, “You’re not adorable.” He lowered himself down slowly, causing Stiles’ breath to catch and his heart rate to spike, “You’re annoying,” another chaste kiss, “You’re _infuriating_.” A longer one this time, and Derek slid his tongue into Stiles’ mouth and he just fisted his hands in the werewolf’s shirt in search of some kind of equilibrium, “and so damn distracting.”

“Distracting?” Stiles managed before Derek plundered his mouth again, a hand wandering farther down Stiles’ stomach. It rested on his hip, his fingers dipping just below the elastic of his boxers.

“You don’t know how many times I took a hit in a fight because I was worrying about you.”

“S’that why you always lose?” he asked, gasping when Derek bit his shoulder in retaliation.

He finally shut up when Derek kissed him again, this time sucking on Stiles’ bottom lip. He whined, and it was a high, breathy sound that made Derek growl against his mouth.

Fucking _finally_ , Derek slipped a hand into Stiles’ boxers, and gave his dick a good firm stroke that hand his hips thrusting up into the touch.

Stiles’ moaned again, and Derek panted against his throat, “See? You don’t look _adorable_ like this. You look fucking beautiful. Mouthwatering.” He emphasized his words with the drag of his mouth against Stiles’ throat, causing his hips to stutter and he fucked into Derek’s hand.

“Der- I need,” he bit back another moan, “I need-”

“What do you need?” he asked, as he licked along his collar bone, “My mouth? You want that?”

Stiles jerked his head in what he hoped was an affirmative gesture. Derek must have gotten the message, thank God, because he began kissing his way down Stiles’ chest, pausing ever know and then to suck a mark into his skin.

“You look so good like this,” he mumbled around Stiles’ nipple, before biting it gently.

Stiles’ arched up, his hands fisting in the sheets, “Fuck, Der.”

“I’m getting to it,” he flashed him a wolfish grin.

“Smartass,” he groaned, as Derek finally made it to his dick.

His tongue flicked out over the head, before he took just the tip in. His tongue swirled, and he applied just the lightest bit of suction. Stiles almost came right then and there, but the fucker pulled off.

“Don’t you fucking dare sto-ooo-” his voice gave out as Derek unexpectedly took him all in. He could feel his dick hit the back of Derek’s throat. Stiles threaded his fingers in Derek’s hair and pulled, causing him to moan around Stiles’ cock, his eyes fluttering close.

“You like that, huh?” Derek was already fisting his own cock, and since Stiles’ couldn’t reach to give him a hand, he figured he could talk him through it. “I bet I’d be real good at this too, ya think? I could wrap my lips around you, you could teach me how. Or maybe you’d wanna fuck me instead?” Stiles’ could feel the answering moan all the way to his toes, “That’s it, yeah? You want to fuck me. I’d totally let you, too. I bet your cock would feel so good inside of me, it’d be my first time, of course. No one else but you has touched me like this.”

That did it; Derek came with a long moan. Stiles came not too long after, and Derek swallowed around him, keeping his mouth on him until he finished. He kissed his way back up Stiles’ chest until their lips met again, this time slower and sweeter.

Derek curled around him for at least an hour after, not talking, just holding him tight.

Stiles nestled in, his back against the werewolf’s muscled chest.

“Hey, Stiles?”

“Hmm?” he mumbled, feeling drowsy again.

“I’m the big spoon, now.”  
And Stiles laughed.

 

 

They walked into the next pack meeting hand in hand, smelling of each other.

Isaac greeted them with a roll of his eyes and a muttered, “Finally.”

Jackson and Lydia just scrunched their noses at the two, and Scott said, “Please don’t make out in front of me.”

Erica was practically bouncing in her seat, causing Boyd to roll his eyes as well.

“You two are _so_ adorable!”

Stiles groaned but Derek laughed, and pressed a kiss to the side of his head.

Stiles thought that maybe adorable was okay after all.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Claudia dies, but it's only mentioned passingly
> 
> One character tried to force them self on an intoxicated character, but nothing actually happens


End file.
